legitimate, lucrative work

I’m pretty sure there's a law about it somewhere.
I can't get a hold of any sources. Without experts to quote, I have no articles that I can finish.
At lunch a co-worker reminded me that we had Monday off work.
I knew this. It’s written on my calendar. Yet, I’d forgotten, making Monday now like a gift.
I have no plans. Nothing is expected of me. I have nothing that I must do, no task that I must accomplish, no one whom I’m expected to see.
I can sleep in. I can write. I can laze around.
But first: birthday, dancing, dim sum, fireworks, another birthday, and then more fireworks.

"Did you hear the queen died? Died last night...the poor bitch," says Nev in Nine Dead Gay Guys, a movie I hadn't expected to watch, a movie I didn't know even existed until I knocked on my neighbor-friends’ door last night. It’s about two guys from Dublin trying to make booze money in London. And it’s surprisingly funny.